


Coping Mechanism

by Heather_Night



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Childhood Friends, College Student Stiles, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Doctor Derek, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 18:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13129710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: "A Jack Daniels on the rocks for the lady and water for the gentleman.”The voice was low and husky and did something to Derek’s insides.  He chanced a glance and wow, the front definitely matched the backside.  Beauty marks dotted creamy skin.  A firm chin balanced high cheekbones and a cute, upturned nose.  Pale pink lips in the classic cupids bow shape gave Derek’s cock all kinds of ideas.  Derek’s focus swept upward.The waiter was stunning with beautiful brown eyes—Derek couldn’t even come up with a description for the color at the moment, this would require some thought.Wait, he knew those eyes.“Mischief, is that you?” Laura gasped out.





	Coping Mechanism

**Author's Note:**

> The hurt/comfort prompt for this story was rape/non con so if that's a trigger, please take heed and adjust accordingly. 
> 
> I wanted to write a somewhat angsty story about childhood friends Derek and Stiles getting separated because of events beyond their control and then reuniting when they're older and this is what came of that idea.

Derek sat back in his chair and enjoyed the view.

He’d yet to see the front of the waiter but from behind Derek thought he was perfect; nice, wide shoulders that tapered to a trim waist, an athletic ass, long limbs all nicely muscled. Lean bordering on too thin.

The waiter definitely matched the physical criteria that made Derek want to pounce. He had a type, so sue him. At least his malpractice insurance was paid up.

“Derek, your drink order?” Laura’s voice, bubbling over with humor, prompted him.

Damn, he’d been caught. “I’ll just have the waiter. I mean water.”

Derek switched his attention to his sister. She was smiling so widely she resembled a serial killer. Ugh. He’d done it to himself.

Instead of embarrassing him, she took the high road. “I guess he’ll be the designated driver tonight.” 

Laura always came across as laid back and good-humored. Derek envied her those traits as his own Type A personality was a little more difficult to get along with, or so he’d been told.

“So tell me, Erica, is that waiter available?” Oh, damn. Laura was pointing toward the hottie who was settling dishes in front of a couple across the room. She had been paying attention and she was going to humiliate him.

The blond smiled, dimples indenting her cheeks. “Do you mean available to wait on your table or available to date?”

“The latter. I think my brother might be interested.” Laura had that look in her eye, the one that usually meant bad things for him. He should’ve learned his lesson by now, seeing as she’d been his big sister for twenty-six years.

“I think he just might be. I’ll send him over with your drink orders.” Erica exchanged conspiratorial smiles with his sister.

Derek made himself relax. This really could go either way. He could end up with a date or he could end up ruing the day he’d agreed to go to dinner with Laura. Then again there was no way he’d say no to her. She’d moved across country with him so he could take a coveted residency position.

After what they’d gone through in their teens, family was everything to them and Derek didn’t ever want to take his remaining family for granted.

The waitress, Erica, glided off and Derek turned his full attention on his sister. “Please don’t embarrass me.”

“I’m not the one who said ‘I’ll have the waiter’. Ring any bells? You don’t need me to embarrass you, you do it all yourself.” Laura teased.

Derek frowned. Laura reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I just want you to be happy. You’ve worked so hard and come so far, I want only good things for you.”

“Thanks, Laura.” Derek’s eyes were downcast when someone appeared at the table.

“A Jack Daniels on the rocks for the lady and water for the gentleman.”

The voice was low and husky and did something to Derek’s insides. He chanced a glance and wow, the front definitely matched the backside. Beauty marks dotted creamy skin. A firm chin balanced high cheekbones and a cute, upturned nose. Pale pink lips in the classic cupids bow shape gave Derek’s cock all kinds of ideas. Derek’s focus swept upward.

The waiter was stunning with beautiful brown eyes—Derek couldn’t even come up with a description for the color at the moment, this would require some thought.

Wait, he knew those eyes.

“Mischief, is that you?” Laura gasped out.

Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski, aka Mischief, Derek’s best friend growing up, stood before him.

“Oh, wow. Blast from the past. Hail, hail, the Hales are all here. Are Peter and Cora joining you?” The now fully-grown Stiles asked in that deep-pitched voice of his.

“They’re still in New York. Derek’s here for his residency so I decided I’d come out here, get the lay of the land, see if we wanted to move back to the area.” Laura explained, her voice musical with delight.

Laura had always had a soft spot for Stiles. The kid had been bright, funny and quirky as hell and he’d soaked up every bit of insanity the Hale Family could dish out to him. Stiles had definitely thrived under their attentions.

“Well I need to get back to my tables. It was nice seeing you again.” Stiles was gone before Derek could even open his mouth in greeting.

Laura kicked him with her pointed shoes, right in his shin. “Ouch!”

“That was really rude.” Laura huffed.

“Which part was rude? The part where I was slavering over the kid I grew up with or the part where I was so surprised I couldn’t even get out a hi?” Derek leaned his elbow on the table and hid his face in his palm.

“I was actually talking about Stiles. He couldn’t wait to get away from the table quick enough. What did I ever do to him?” Laura lamented.

Derek’s unease increased. Laura hadn’t done anything to Stiles but Derek definitely had. Or hadn’t done anything in this case.

“It’s not you, Laura. I was his supposed best friend and I disappeared from Beacon Hills without even saying goodbye to Stiles.” At first Derek had just needed to put distance between himself and that place but by the time he’d gotten some perspective and thought about his friend, he figured Stiles was better off without him in his life.

There was a four-year age gap between them and Derek was interested in picking out colleges and dating while Stiles…the kid had just wanted to hang around the Hales and whatever interested them, Stiles adapted to fit in.

The blond waitress returned to their table. Her nose crinkled and she bit her lip. At another place in his life he would’ve found the woman attractive and might’ve pursued her.

Now his thoughts centered on guys about his height, slighter in frame, with mole dotted skin.

Erica cleared her throat. “So I’m guessing the Ice Princess shut you down?”

_Ice Princess?_ It didn’t surprise Derek that Stiles got hit on a lot, not looking the way he did, but it sounded like he didn’t take up many patrons on their offer. That thought buoyed Derek.

Laura filled the silence. “It was a bit awkward as we realized we grew up in Stiles’s home town and used to hang out with him.”

“Oh, wow. I’m from Beacon Hills, too. I’m Erica Reyes. You two must’ve been ahead of me because I would’ve remembered you if you’d been in any of my classes.” The waitress fiddled with her pad of paper while she gnawed at her lip as though worrying a puzzle.

Laura held out her hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Erica. I’m Laura Hale and this is my brother Derek. Do you think if we promise to be nice you could send Stiles back over for a small chat? Now that we’ve reconnected with him we’d like to stay in touch.” 

The two women shook hands, ignoring Derek completely. “Well I would except Stiles is done with his shift.”

Something in the way Erica shifted her eyes told Derek her co-worker leaving at this hour wasn’t normal. 

Derek felt pretty horrible; he’d managed to scare off his friend. Former friend? Actually for a few years there Stiles had been one of the family.

Nausea churned in the pit of Derek’s stomach.

“Can I give you my contact information? You can pass it on to Stiles but I’d also love if you and I could get together. You could fill me in on what’s happening in Beacon Hills if you still keep in touch.” Laura was digging in her purse, pulling out a pen and small piece of paper. That was his sister, ready for almost any eventuality.

Erica took the information and then pointed to the menus on the table. “I’d better take your order before the manager hunts me down. Let me tell you about our specials…”

Derek zoned out, lost in reminisces of his boyhood friend. Stiles was the first person Derek had given a ride to once he’d passed his driver’s test. Even though Stiles was younger, he was the one who’d helped Derek study for his SAT’s. Stiles was the one Derek told about his sexual escapades; the then 12-year-old hadn’t shown any interest in anyone other than the girl he called his strawberry blond goddess but he’d listened to Derek and asked the right questions and supported him.

Right up until things blew up in Derek’s face and blew up his world. Or at least burned it down around him.

“Derek, did you need to skip dinner and get out of here?” Laura’s tone was patient. For all the grief she gave him, she was understanding and supportive.

“No, this is supposed to be a celebratory dinner. Let’s stay.” Even though He’d been told Stiles had left, he couldn’t help but hope the other guy was still around and he’d catch a glimpse of him.

Derek knew he at least owed Stiles and explanation as to why he’d pulled a disappearing act. His therapist would say he was seeking closure.

It was pretty funny how he could go years—ten years actually—without giving his friend a single thought and now it felt like he couldn’t move forward until he saw him again.

-0-

Stiles’s cell phone blew up just like he thought it would. 

Erica was relentless when she was curious. Stiles couldn’t fault her for that but he had a metric shit-ton of studying to get done and less than eight hours to get it done.

_Hale Hotties were asking questions about you_

_You’ve been holding out on me_

_I will not be ignored!_

Rolling his eyes, Stiles left his table in the section of the Reserved Library wing he liked to study in and clutching his phone, he stepped outside.

Erica answered on the first ring. “Spill your guts, Batman. I’m dying of suspense.”

Stiles laughed. “Ease up there, Catwoman. I’ll tell you what you want to know but I’ve got to warn you, it’s boring.”

“Details!” Erica demanded with a laugh.

“You remember the house by the preserve that burned down when we were like, twelve?” Stiles was rubbing his eyebrow with his thumb, trying to calm the churning feeling surging through his gut. He hadn’t thought about this shit in forever and he didn’t want to drag it all up now but he knew his friend wouldn’t let this go.

“The one that wiped out half of a family? Yeah, I remember it.” Erica’s words were slow as she put the puzzle pieces together. “Oh, no, that was the same Hales as Derek and Laura?”

“Yeah. I was friends with Derek, hell, Mrs. Hale babysat me when my dad was working all of the time. Anyway, after the fire they moved and I never heard from them again.” It had left a pretty big hole in his chest and that was a little weird because after his mom had died, Stiles didn’t even know he still had a heart.

Whatever.

Erica made a little noise. Sympathy probably. “That truly sucks. I’m sorry. They seem like nice people.” 

“The Hales were awesome.” Stiles could feel the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach calming and the tightness in his chest easing.

Whenever his emotions got too strong—he didn’t like extreme highs or lows—he disassociated from them. He knew it was a coping mechanism but he didn’t mind it, it kept him sane. Semi sane?

“Are you going to see them again?” Erica persisted. It didn’t feel like she was poking at a sore wound, she just sounded curious.

“I’m stretched a little thin at the moment. I have this friend who keeps me talking on the phone even though I have an exam in the morning.” Stiles dodged the question using his other coping mechanism—humor.

Erica sighed but it was her good-humored sigh, not her put upon sigh. Wow, he could identify her sighs over the phone. Stiles wasn’t sure if that was a reflection of Erica’s life or if he just caused that reaction so often he recognized the nuances.

“Good night, Batman. See you tomorrow.” Excellent. Erica wasn’t going to push the issue and he could get back to his studying.

“Good night, Catwoman.” He disconnected the call and slid his phone into his pocket. 

Stiles made his way back to his table and stared down at his textbook.

Both Hales had looked fantastic. Laura had always been a knockout and Derek had grown into his cute overbite and his eyebrows. 

Stiles couldn’t deny he was curious about how the remaining Hales were doing but he wasn’t really interested in rekindling any friendships.

Adult Stiles had gained perspective about his feelings of abandonment over the Hales leaving his behind. Stiles had the same urge to flee Beacon Hills and everyone in it when his dad died but he hadn’t had the ability.

It was funny but before Erica had asked Stiles to get that table’s drink orders, Stiles had been aware of serious attention coming from that area, primarily aimed at his backside.

Stiles hadn’t wanted to stare but he’d glimpsed an exotically handsome guy in that area and had even entertained thoughts of maybe giving his number out if asked.

He never gave his number out.

He never dated.

Hell, he was still technically a virgin.

Being with women didn’t turn him on and being with men scared him.

Stiles had promised himself when he graduated from school and was settled in a proper job he would find a therapist and work on some of his issues.

Stiles propped his chin up on his palm and focused on the pages in front of him. 

If nothing else he was decent at compartmentalizing.

-0

Someone knocked on the door and before Chris could say anything, Allison stuck her head inside. “Sorry to interrupt but you’re favorite patient is here, Dad.” 

“Please put him in his exam room and we’ll be right there.” Chris instructed his daughter.

Derek’s interest was piqued. Whoever this patient was, he had his own exam room and he was Chris’s favorite?

Rifling through a filing cabinet, Chris pulled out a thicker than average chart. “This is a twenty-two year old Caucasian male who is a full time student. He also works the equivalent of full time spread out over several jobs. The first time I treated him was for anaphylaxis brought on by exposure to tattoo dye; that was a first for me. The next time was a concussion from playing a pick up game of Lacrosse; who even plays Lacrosse? Every time I’ve seen him it’s been for either an interesting medical reason or an injury obtained under unusual circumstances. He’s quite the character and sometimes he’s accompanied by what your predecessor called either his coven or the harpies—three young women who are extremely protective of him. You’ve been warned.”

Chris slapped the manila folder into his hands and shoved Derek toward the door. “You’ll find your patient in Exam Room 3. I’ll be along in a moment.”

Derek absorbed the information dished out to him but one fact caught his attention. “The kiddie room?” Why would they put a twenty-two year old in the dinosaur and princess themed room?

“Yeah, your patient is prone to passing out when he sees blood or needles so we try to distract him.” Chris squeezed Derek’s shoulder and then he found himself out the door, feet taking him towards the assigned exam room.

As Derek neared the door, he heard Allison speaking. “Yeah, he looks cute and if he’s half as nice as you say he is, that will be a step up from the last guy I dated. You can give him my number.”

Allison heard the door open and excused herself. As she squeezed by Derek she whispered, “Migraine symptoms. He’s all yours.”

Chris’s daughter was in the Target MD program and although she worked as a receptionist at the Free Clinic, which served both university students and the disadvantaged, she definitely had the knack for triage. Derek would do his own assessment but most likely the younger man was suffering from a migraine.

Derek slipped into the room, flipping open the chart. “I’m Dr. Hale and I’ll be treating you today…Stiles?”

These were not the circumstances under which Derek had imagined he’d be meeting Stiles again. Grabbing coffee out or something casual while they cleared the air. Never in a million years had he considered meeting as doctor and patient.

“Oh hell no. Where’s Dr. Argent?” Stiles was sitting on the exam table, heel of his left hand cupped over his left eye, elbow perched atop a turned over bucket. The visible right eye was bloodshot and blinked tiredly at Derek. He was in one of those stupid white paper gowns and it was hard to tell where the gown ended and Stiles’s skin began, his coloring was so washed out.

“He’ll be right along. I know this is awkward so if you want to wait for Dr. Argent I understand. If you agree I could at least take your blood pressure.” Derek offered. Blood pressure was non invasive and would save their nurse from being run off his feet.

“Yeah, okay, I guess.” Stiles acquiesced but he didn’t sound happy about it.

Derek wanted to ply Stiles with questions or at the very least set up a time to meet up later but he could tell the other man was in distress. Derek’s wishes needed to take a backseat to Stiles’s medical problem.

Selecting what he judged to be the proper sized cuff amidst a sea of child sized ones took a moment. Derek wrapped the cuff around Stiles’s upper right arm—even in a relaxed state he admired the sinewy muscle—and lined up the cuff’s lower edge an inch above the antecubital fossa. He pressed the stethoscope’s bell over the brachial artery and rapidly inflated the cuff to 180mmHg. Next he released air from the cuff at a moderate rate. Derek wanted to observe Stiles’s face but he needed to simultaneously listen with the stethoscope and watch the sphygmomanometer. He noted the reading associated with the first Korotkoff sound and then again when the sound disappeared.

Derek had been expecting high blood pressure but 90/60 was a hypotensive reading. 

Derek loosened the cuff and removed it but he left it out in case he needed to take the reading again. He grabbed Stiles’s chart and flipped to the vital sign section.

“What was it?” Stiles asked.

Without looking up, Derek answered. “90 over 60. Is it always that low?”

“Um, yeah?”

Derek found what he was looking for and yes, Stiles’s blood pressure always flirted with being low. He could be exceptionally fit, he could be genetically predisposed to hypotension, he could have an underlying medical cause or, most likely, he could be dehydrated.

A knock at the door announced Chris’s arrival. “Hi, Stiles. What brings you by today?”

“I’m afraid it’s a rather boring reason.” Stiles fidgeted on the exam table, his gown crinkling and swooshing with his movements.

“Dr. Argent? Stiles was my childhood friend and he might not be comfortable with me treating him.” Derek wanted to get that information out there right away.

“Hmm,” Chris rubbed the scruff on his chin. “Do you want Dr. Hale to leave the room, Stiles?”

“If Dr. Hale can make this headache go away, he’s welcome to stay I guess.” It wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic endorsement but Derek would take it.

Chris crossed his arms. “Tell me more about this headache.”

When Stiles hesitated, the doctor waved one hand in a ‘give it to me’ motion, cocking an eyebrow.

Stiles sighed. “The vision in my left eye is splotchy.”

“Nausea and vomiting?”

Stiles nodded to the emesis container resembling a popcorn bucket at a movie theater sitting beneath his arm. 

“Pressure on your face?”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re listing to the side so I’m not even going to ask if you have vertigo. How long has the been going on?” Chris’s tone was clinical yet held a degree of warmth that Derek hadn’t heard during any of his other interactions with patients.

“Two days ago, in the morning. The migraine meds aren’t touching it and I can’t skip work again.” Stiles swallowed convulsively, his arm flexing as though thinking of grabbing the bucket, but then he subsided. “Is there anything else I can take? Please?” 

“Dr. Hale, what course of treatment would you prescribe?” Derek was surprised to be included in the consultation but this was why he was volunteering here—he needed the experience.

“I need to check Stiles’s chart for allergies but ideally I would administer twenty-five milligrams of diphenhydramine followed by ten milligrams of prochlorperazine. If the headache doesn’t resolve in fifteen to thirty minutes I would give thirty milligrams of ketorolac which usually resolves the headache within sixty minutes.” This was a standard headache cocktail but he knew Chris approved of his answer, mainly because he’d started out by saying he would check for allergies. That was something the doctor had been drumming into him since he began working here and it was the basic tenant of ‘do no harm’ yet it was amazing how often residents fucked it up.

Derek didn’t plan on fucking Stiles up. Well, not medically at least. He hadn’t ruled out another type of fucking but first he needed to get the guy to talk to him. And get him feeling better.

Stiles interrupted Derek’s fantasy. “I’m not going to like this treatment am I?”

“Not even a little bit.” Chris answered, punctuating his words with a fond tap on Stiles’s knee with his palm. “Dr. Hale, I’ll gather the meds together if you want to get the IV going.”

Stiles clutched the emesis bucket in his arms, his shoulders slumped.

Derek had above average skills when it came to starting IVs but he wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to practice even if it was on his friend.

“Let’s get you comfortable.” Derek took the bucket from Stiles’s unresisting hands and helped shift him backward so he was reclining on the exam table, head resting on a flat pillow. He grabbed a blanket from the cupboard beneath the sink and spread it over Stiles, making sure to tuck the edges around the younger man’s feet. As a kid Stiles’s extremities were always cold and Derek didn’t imagine that had changed although plenty of other things had.

Once he was settled Derek sat down on the stool and pulled the arm board away from where it was tucked beneath the exam table. Stiles’s head was turned and he observed Derek’s actions but his pupils were enlarged and their movements were lazy. The medications Stiles had taken in the last two days might not have resolved the migraine but they’d had some impact on his body. 

Derek spotted a median cubital vein on the ventral aspect of Stiles’s left arm. It was big enough to palpate and insert the IV although insertion near the antecubital fossa would decrease Stiles’s mobility. Derek chanced a glance at Stiles’s face; it was drawn with pain so he figured the lack of mobility for the next thirty to sixty minutes shouldn’t be a problem.

Derek grabbed an alcohol pad, tore it open and rubbed gently over the area he was targeting. He spun around and grabbed fresh gloves. When he turned around he noticed Stiles was on the verge of hyperventilation.

“Hey, believe it or not I’m a decent doctor. I’m going to do all of the work and you just need to relax for me.” Derek tried teasing Stiles to distract him but Stiles eyes widened further as he took in the 18-gauge catheter Derek held in his hand.

Stiles eyes rolled up and the tension left his body.

Derek set the catheter down on the tray table, rising to his feet. “Stiles?” He’d had patients pass out on him before, but it had never been someone he cared about.

“Ah, right on time. Best get the IV in before he comes around.” Chris’s voice was low and mellow and without a trace of concern.

Derek remembered Chris mentioning his favorite patient didn’t like needles and was prone to passing out. This must’ve been a less than rare occurrence.

Maybe some day Derek would be able to laugh about it. 

“I’ll get right on that.” The tremors in Derek’s hands calmed down and he successfully got the catheter inserted. 

“You have a nice, soft touch Dr. Hale.” Derek thought Chris was teasing him and shot him a look but the doctor was staring at the IV, nodding in approval.

The clinic became swamped and Derek’s attention was diverted to a fractured wrist in Exam 1 and chest pains in Exam 2. It was a good ninety minutes before he made his way back to the exam room he was having difficulty staying away from.

He peeked in to find a young woman with long reddish hair sitting next to the exam table. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Didn’t want to bother you.” Stiles had his right arm bent and draped over his face. 

“You’re no bother. You are, however, a stubborn asshole.” The woman flicked hair over her shoulder.

Derek stuck his head inside and the woman, in the act of settling her hair, saw him and nodded. “Be back in a moment. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Funny, Lydia. You ought to think about changing careers and being a comedienne.” Stiles was coherent but his words dragged, emphasizing his state of exhaustion.

Derek figured this tiny dynamo of a woman flouncing toward him must be one of the three women Chris had mentioned earlier. 

“When can I take Stiles home?” The woman was direct but she softened the blunt question with a small smile.

“I should be able to pull the IV and then he’ll be ready.” Derek wanted to ask this woman questions about the too thin, exhausted man inside the exam room but it wasn’t his place. At least not yet.

The woman, Lydia, rolled her eyes. “You’re Derek Hale. You knew Stiles back in Beacon Hills before his life blew up. You were close to him but then practically abandoned him when your house was burned to the ground, killing half of your family, and you moved across the country. Based on what I’ve seen and heard, you still care for the galoot. Ask your question and I’ll either answer or I won’t.”

This short in stature but large in personality woman studied Derek through narrowed eyes. Had she hired a private investigator? Was she psychic? She was definitely on the scary side and Derek would do his best not to make an enemy of her, especially since she was close to Stiles.

Here was an opening and Derek was going to take it. He hadn’t made it through med school by letting others steamroll over him. “What’s going on that Stiles is so run down? We can help address the migraine issues but that’s not going to help him in the long run if he’s running himself into the ground and not taking care of himself.” 

Derek’s passionately delivered concern seemed to strike a chord in the woman and her expression relaxed. The smile she bestowed upon Derek lit up her face and made her jade green eyes sparkle. This was the second female friend of Stiles’s and they were both gorgeous. 

Derek refocused as Lydia began to speak. “Stiles’s friends have all tried to help him but he doesn’t want to be a burden and insists on doing everything his way or as I call it, the hard way. May I be blunt with you?” She eyed him speculatively.

“Please do.” Derek braced himself for whatever Lydia would share with him.

“You seem to care for Stiles but he’s never going to let you in if you don’t bulldoze your way. If you just keep showing up and spending time with him, Stiles will eventually crack. If you can’t, or won’t, put the time in to make that effort he’ll never trust you.” Lydia held her dainty wrist out and looked at the expensive watch gracing it. “If that’s all I’d like to take the patient home.”

Derek blinked, his brain processing the information she’d spit at him. He’d talk to Laura and come up with some sort of plan; she was as keen as he was to reconnect with Stiles although her intentions were platonic.

Derek cleared his throat. “Of course.” Knocking on the door, Derek let himself in to the exam room. “I think your oil change should be complete. How is the pain?”

Stiles’s eyes blinked open and it took a moment before he focused on Derek. “Definitely manageable. I’m sorry I took up valuable space.”

There was a hint of self-deprecation, or maybe low self-esteem, in the way Stiles phrased his response. Derek didn’t care for it, not one little bit. “I’m not sorry at all. You were clearly in distress and sought treatment. Maybe next time you could come in once you know your Maxalt isn’t working instead of waiting forty-eight hours.”

Lydia huffed as she stepped from behind Derek. “Seriously, Stiles? I can’t believe you’re graduating Magna Cum Laude.”

Derek tucked that little tidbit away to be examined later. Stiles had always been highly intelligent but his ADHD had made concentration a bit tricky. It sounded as though he’d either grown out of the more trying symptoms or he’d hit upon the right coping skills. Derek couldn’t be more proud of his younger friend.

Stiles plucked at the blanket covering his chest. “Sometimes it’s hard to think straight when it feels like my head is going to explode.”

Stiles’s disclosure made the nurturer inside of Derek want to scoop up Stiles and take him home himself. He’d ply him with food and tie him down if that’s what it took…Derek needed to reverse that mode of thinking, quickly. 

Tying up Stiles was a different type of caretaking, one Derek shouldn’t be examining in mixed company. Or any company. Not until he and Stiles had cleared the air.

“I’m going to ask Lydia to hold your right hand and she’s going to tell you about your post discharge instructions in detail, primarily the part where I’m writing you a note excusing you from work and school for forty eight hours.” Derek crossed his arms to underscore how strongly he felt, that he couldn’t be dissuaded from this course.

Stiles’s mouth fell open and then he dismissed Derek, turning his attention to Lydia. 

Lydia grabbed Stiles’s hand and the two began a vigorous debate about Stiles staying with Lydia.

Derek gathered up the supplies he needed and then grabbed a pair of gloves before sinking onto the stool next to the exam table. He had the catheter removed, the site wiped down with an alcohol pad and bandaged before Stiles could notice and pass out. Again.

“Okay, let me grab the actual discharge instructions and you’ll be free to go.” Derek patted Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles’s lips parted. The expression on his face made Derek wonder what his ‘o’ face might look like. Damn, he had it bad.

“The needle’s out? I didn’t even feel it.” Stiles stared at his arm and then up at Derek, a shy smile quirking up the corners of his mouth.

“Good. I’ll be back in a minute and then we’ll get you on your way.” Derek soothed.

He felt weird. Both strangely protective of the other man but also turned on by him. It didn’t help that looming over Stiles was turning out to be a kink Derek didn’t even realize he had.

With one last look he sailed out of the door. Chris would want to sign off on Stiles’s discharge and as much as he wanted to moon over the guy, he wasn’t going to screw up his job at the Free Clinic.

-0-

Stiles had been dozing on the futon when a light knock at his door woke him up. He glanced at the clock on his DVD player; Malia was a little early.

He stumbled toward the peephole, frowning at the two shapes in front of him—Laura and Derek Hale.

Undoing the chain, deadbolt, and regular lock, Stiles swung the door open. “What are you doing here?”

Laura pushed past him, carrying a bag. “We got your address from Erica. She wanted to stop by today with something for you to eat but she couldn’t make it so we volunteered. You’ve probably grown out of it but I brought some of your old favorites including mac ‘n cheese.”

Stiles felt his eyebrows lift high on his forehead. “I’m out of ketchup.” 

He could’ve kicked himself with his inane response. 

Derek cracked a smile. “Never fear, we brought some with us.”

Stiles trailed behind Laura as she moved to the kitchenette. “You Hales are so weird. You put ketchup on everything.”

Laura started unloading the paper bag. There were several boxes of Kraft mac ‘n cheese, a bottle of Heinz Ketchup, butter, bread, cheese, peanut butter…it was like a magician’s never ending top hat the way Laura kept pulling more items into view.

Derek opened the refrigerator and set a gallon of milk on the empty shelf. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. 

Something caught Stiles’s attention. “Twinkies!”

Laura gave him a haughty sneer; it was the same look she used to give him when he was boy. “You smother Twinkies with milk and eat that revolting concoction with a spoon out of a cup and you dare make fun of us for putting ketchup on our mac ‘n cheese?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, you infected me with your ketchup craze. Lydia considers it gross. Erica just wrinkles her nose. Malia, well, she likes it too.” It felt good to feel so lighthearted, even if it would only last a short while. 

“Malia, I don’t think we’ve met her yet. Derek met Lydia and we both know Erica now. Are they all as unique as Erica?” Laura’s eyes twinkled.

“Lydia is scary.” Derek volunteered.

Unique and scary. That pretty much summed up those two.

A loud banging on the door jarred the threesome bunched into the kitchenette area. “There’s Malia now,” Stiles commented to both Hales. “Come on in, Malia!” He raised his voice so his friend would hear it.

The door swung open and his friend began to lecture him. “Stiles, keep the damned door locked. How hard is it for your pea-sized brain—oh! I didn’t know you had people over.”

Stiles smiled fondly at Malia. The woman had zero filter on her mouth, which always made Stiles feel better about his own lack of one, and she never left him in doubt about how she felt. About anything. Whether he asked for her opinion or not.

“Hi, Malia. These are the Hales, Laura and Derek. I grew up with them.” He turned to the siblings who stared at Malia with unabashed curiosity. “Laura, Derek, this is Malia.”

“You’re the last of Stiles’s coven,” Derek blurted out.

Stiles swung his head, making eye contact, staring in amazement. Derek wasn’t usually one to blurt things out. At least he hadn’t as a kid.

Malia stepped into the small space. She crinkled her nose. “I take it you’ve been talking to Chris Argent.” In typical Malia fashion, that was a statement instead of a question.

At least Malia didn’t scowl. She and Chris had gotten off to a rocky start when the doctor had once tried to bar Malia from Stiles’s exam room. They’d mended fences since then.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Derek stuck out his hand.

Malia stared at the hand. She shrugged, reached out and shook it.

Derek cringed at her grip; Stiles’s knew Malia was strong and apparently she wanted Derek to know it, too.

Laura stared at Malia, intrigue apparent in the raised eyebrow. She, too, extended her hand in greeting. “Lovely to meet you, Malia.”

Stiles guffawed at the tug of war resulting from the two women attempting to gain the upper hand aka crush the other one’s hand.

The two broke apart, Laura chagrined and Malia smiling.

“Want to go around the corner to a bar and get a drink?” Malia invited Laura.

Laura accepted the invitation. “Derek, make sure Stiles eats some mac ‘n cheese.”

Malia chimed in. “I hope you brought him some ketchup!”

Stiles shooed the two women out of his apartment.

He relocked the door this time and turned to find Derek still standing in the kitchenette, bemusement on his face. He shook his head. “You know introducing Laura and Malia was probably a big mistake. I have a feeling those two could rule the world.”

Cackling, Stiles agreed. “I think you’re right but there was no way around it, not if you two are going to crash my pad.”

Derek shrugged then turned around, separating the groceries in front of him. “We’ve missed you, Stiles,” he softly shared.

Stiles realized he’d smiled and laughed more times in the short span of time since the Hales had arrived than he probably had in the last year all together.

He might want to guard his heart but Derek, and to a lesser extent Laura, had already put a dent in his resolve.

-0-

Derek had been surprised by how easily he and Stiles had fallen back into the routine of being friends. He’d thought, mistakenly, Stiles would fight him tooth and nail but instead Stiles had yet to decline an invitation, whether it was for watching Netflix or getting a bite to eat.

The only caveat was that Derek always did the asking. Stiles was the wary cat, waiting for someone to yank the dinner dish away from him.

Laura breezed into the loft they shared, Malia hot on her heels. Derek, who had been plucking grapes off the stems and dropping them into a colander to rinse, smiled at the duo. “Hey, Laura. Hey, Malia. Are you two staying for dinner?”

His sister set her purse down. “Nope, just stopping to change and then me and Malia are meeting up with Erica and Lydia. It’s a girls night out.”

Malia gave Derek the once over. “You want to come with us?”

It was a good thing Derek’s masculinity wasn’t fragile. He smiled. “No, thank you. I’m going to fix Stiles some dinner and then we’re going to study.”

Laura went upstairs to change, leaving Derek with Malia. “Study, huh.”

It wasn’t a question so Derek didn’t make a response.

Malia walked over to the counter and hiked herself up, crossing her long legs. Today she was clad in thigh high boots and denim shorts. It was an odd combo but she somehow pulled it off. “I think you should know something.”

Derek set the grapes down. “All right. What is it?”

“I met Stiles when we were both seventeen and we were both doing time in juvie. You know how people say so-and-so has led a tragic life? That barely scratches the surface for Stiles. I just wanted you to know if you ever hurt him, I’ll hurt you.”

Derek blinked at the woman sitting casually on his counter, making threats that sounded even more casual. In this instance Derek believed those threats.

“If I hurt Stiles you should hurt me. He’s my…friend,” Derek settled on that descriptor but Stiles was so much more than a friend. “I want to take care of him, make his life a little easier, not cause him problems.”

Malia give him the stink-eye before hopping off of the counter. The hostile look melted into a smile. “See that you do.” She reached out and slugged him in the arm. “Good talk.”

Laura skipped downstairs and linked arms with Malia who met her by the door. She was now wearing a micro skirt, long boots and a long sleeved top. He could see Malia’s influence on her clothing choices but he didn’t comment. “You both look great. Have fun!”

“You, too, little brother. Make sure Stiles takes breaks so he doesn’t get another migraine. Bye!” Laura threw her farewell over her shoulder as the two women exited the door.

Stiles had been in juvie, at least according to Malia. That might explain why Stiles had altered his choice in careers; he was now some sort of English major instead of criminal justice like he’d always talked about. It might also explain how he’d dealt with his father’s passing, which is to say not well.

Derek vowed to redouble his efforts in watching out for Stiles. The self-deprecating, funny, clever, thoughtful man had some rocky back-story. Derek hoped one day his friend would share it with him. 

A burden shared was more easily carried.

-0-

Stiles had a few minutes before he needed to buckle down and work on his next paper. Spending time around Derek had jumpstarted his libido so he found himself checking out some free porn sites. XTube had some promising clips and he clicked randomly on one.

The toppy guy had dark hair and was extremely buff. The other guy was slimmer with lighter colored hair and his most startling physical attribute was his puffy lips. The two guys on screen started giving each other hand jobs and Stiles’s jeans became uncomfortably tight through the crotch. 

Slouching down in his chair, Stiles smiled. It had been five years since he’d any action down there discounting dreams although to be honest, those usually turned into nightmares and negated the arousal.

His palm slid over his bulge and squeezed lightly. This was encouraging. And felt damned fine.

The action on the screen shifted and the dark haired guy pushed the other one to his knees and shoved his cock—

Stiles’s brain short circuited and he found himself tumbling out of the chair, landing on his hands and knees on the hardwood floor.

He couldn’t breathe. His lungs labored to pull in oxygen and the wheeze accompanying the action was frightening and—

Bang, bang, bang!

Someone was pounding a fist on his apartment door.

Stiles crawled over to the door, his vision dodgy, his chest squeaking with each inhalation and exhalation.

“Stiles? It’s Derek. Are you okay?”

With the last bit of strength he possessed, Stiles lunged upward, undoing the safety chain. He caught himself on the door, twisting the deadbolt and then the standard lock.

That was all the energy he had and he crashed back down to the floor.

_Maybe some rugs would be a good idea._

After that it was lights out.

-0-

Derek heard the locks disengage but Stiles wasn’t saying anything. Someone was making horribly wheezing noises and Derek had to assume it was Stiles.

As soon as he heard a loud thump, Derek twisted the doorknob. It gave, and he tentatively pushed it inward.

“Stiles?”

The door only swung inward about a foot and then stopped. Derek poked his head around the door.

Stiles’s limbs were sprawled across the gorgeous hardwood, seemingly taking a nap.

Only the hideous wheezing belayed that thought.

Derek eased into the apartment and closed the door.

“Stiles, can you hear me?”

Running through his emergency first aid, Derek started with the ABC’s.

The head tilt – chin lift was easily accomplished to establish Stiles’s airway because he was already on his back. 

His friend was breathing and the frantic wheezing he’d been able to hear through the door was clearing up.

Stiles’s was very pale but Derek touched his carotid artery and his blood was pumping. The pulse was much quicker than it should be for someone at rest but Derek was beginning to suspect Stiles had suffered a panic attack.

Low moans and panting caught Derek’s attention and he looked across the open area. Something was playing on Stiles’s computer.

Derek spied a blanket draped over the futon and he lunged to his feet to grab it. He was standing right next to the desk and glanced at the screen. Some dark haired guy was giving it to a twink. Derek closed the browser and returned to Stiles’s side.

By the time Derek was draping the blanket over Stiles’s form, his friend began to shift, thumping his splayed hand over his chest.

“Stiles, it’s Derek. You passed out. Can you tell me how you feel?” Derek kept his tone light and his volume low. Stiles didn’t need any other surprises today.

Those light brown eyes came into view as Stiles blinked up at him, eyelashes fluttering and then finally kept his eyelids raised. Derek watched closely; both pupils constricted evenly as they should when exposed to the harsh overhead light.

“What happened?” Stiles croaked. He scrunched his nose up in thought. “Crap. Never mind. Panic attack.”

“Does your head or neck hurt?” Derek hadn’t wanted to move Stiles into recovery position since he didn’t know if he’d incurred a spinal injury.

Stiles held his hands out. “The only thing hurt is my pride. Help me up?”

Derek would’ve preferred Stiles remain on the floor until he could be completely evaluated but he also couldn’t deny the other man his request.

Derek took Stiles’s hands and carefully tugged him up to a sitting position. “How do you feel?”

“Like it’s time to get off of the floor. I suppose you’re going to want to know what happened.” Stiles didn’t sound upset. No, he was resigned.

Once again Derek helped lift Stiles upward. He kept an arm curled around Stiles’s back protectively and guided him to the futon. Once the other man was settled, Derek said, “Try to relax. I’m going to get you something to drink.”

“There’s a glass next to the sink. Tap water is fine.” Stiles’s voice had gathered strength and his voice had returned to its normal husky baseline.

Derek filled the glass and returned to the futon. Stiles accepted the glass with thanks and sipped cautiously from it.

He was in mid swallow when his attention jerked to the side. 

Toward the computer.

“I closed your browser.” Derek broke the news matter of factly.

Stiles’s pale skin heated to a bright pink. He rested the glass on his thigh with one hand while the other splayed over his face. “Of course you did.”

“Stiles, sex is a completely normal physiologic function. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” After the anatomy and physiology classes combined with disease processes courses he’d taken, Derek’s own views toward sex had changed. He, too, used to find sex messy and embarrassing, at least when he wasn’t in the midst of having it, but the act held little mystery for him anymore.

His friend’s response was tinged with a bitterness that took Derek aback. “I don’t know, I haven’t had sex with anyone. Ever. The mere sight of someone giving head was enough to cause a panic attack. Believe me, I’m plenty embarrassed.” 

Derek pried the glass out of Stiles’s hand and set it down on the coffee table. The same coffee table he perched atop.

Gathering Stiles’s cool hands in his own, Derek stared into Stiles’s eyes. “Do you want to talk about it? No pressure if you don’t. I’d like to understand if I could though.”

-0-

Stiles allowed Derek to take his hands. He even stared into his friend’s eyes. Technically they were hazel but they were so much more than that. 

With a deep sigh, Stiles decided he might as well get his past out on the table. Not the same table Derek was sitting on, of course. 

Apparently his ADHD was still a thing. Ugh.

“Not really. But I will. You know I spent time in juvie, right? Malia said she told you a little about it. What we don’t talk about is what happened to me in there.” Stiles’s fingers twitched in Derek’s grip but he held on tighter. 

“Sure. From what I’ve gathered between what you’ve said, and what Malia shared, after the sheriff died your dad’s dad reported you as a runaway and you ended up in juvie for what they call beyond parental control.” Derek’s recitation of the cold, hard facts made it easier for Stiles’s to continue.

Stiles couldn’t stop the eye roll he gave when he thought of Elias Stilinski. His grandfather had been a miserable, cold bastard. “Runaway, right. Do you remember my friend, Scott McCall? I went to the McCalls every chance I could and my grandfather knew exactly where to find me. He just didn’t want to deal with my teenage angst anymore so he washed his hands of me.” Gathering himself, Stiles plunged toward the panic-inducing portion of the story. “There was a guard in juvie. Name of Brunski. He really didn’t like me. Apparently I didn’t respect his authoritay.” Stiles’s fingers twitched again as they ached to put air quotes around Cartman’s famous words. 

He wanted, no needed, a distraction from the words circling around his mind, whispered by Brunski all those years ago.

_Into the quiet room, Little Man._

The door clanged shut.

_I always love the sarcastic ones._

The sound of the lowering zipper...

“Stiles?”

His head snapped back up at Derek’s concerned tone. His fingers had moved past twitching—his hands now spasmed violently and only Derek’s grip kept the motions from overtaking his whole body.

Stiles licked his lips. “Yeah, sorry. Brunski tried to teach me a lesson. You know how rape is about power? He put me in the quiet room and tried to force me to give him a blow job.”

Stiles steeled himself for sympathy or pity or something close to that from Derek.

The other man frowned but he didn’t share any trite platitudes. “I take it he wasn’t successful?” 

Derek chafed Stiles’s hands between his own now, lending strength and warmth where Stiles lacked it. “No, he wasn’t. I grabbed his baton and hit him. Hit him so hard I put him in a coma. And that’s why the idea of a blowjob is enough to send me into a panic. It’s also why I can’t go into law enforcement. They don’t want someone with anger management issues on a police department.”

Stiles braced himself for Derek’s response. The last thing he’d expected to hear came out of his friend’s mouth. “Stiles, I think you’re strongest, bravest person I know.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in and then, as though he hadn’t humiliated himself enough already today, Stiles burst into tears.

-0-

Derek moved to the futon and pulled Stiles into his arms. He nudged Stiles’s head to his shoulder and let the other man purge his emotions. 

It was a short, violent storm of tears and Derek wished there was something else he could do but he could only hang on to the quivering body in his arms.

“I felt so weak. I mean why did he target me? And then he pretty much wrecked any sexual urges I had. He took away my first career choice. I was depressed when he came out of his coma. At least he wasn’t allowed to go back to his old job so there was that.” Stiles snuffled into Derek’s shirt.

Derek rubbed his hand up and down Stiles’s spine. 

When at least Stiles eased away, he leaned back against the back of the futon in an exhausted slump.

Going back to the kitchen, Derek dampened a paper towel and grabbed a dishtowel. There was no Kleenex box in sight so this would have to do. Returning to the futon, he held out the paper towel. “Here, wipe your face.”

When Stiles just stared at Derek’s hand holding the paper towel, Derek sat back down on the coffee table. He slowly reached out and brushed the damp paper towel across Stiles’s face. He set that aside and dabbed the dishcloth against the same skin, drying it off. “Better?”

“How can you stand to be here? Don’t I disgust you?” Stiles crossed his arms and watched Derek warily. 

Derek rubbed his hands over his thighs. He didn’t want to burden Stiles with his feelings but he thought his friend needed to know how he felt. “Stiles, I love you. You could never disgust me.”

The crossed arms dropped down in tandem with Stiles’s jaw doing the same. “You what?”

“I love you. I’m in love with you.” Derek’s voice gathered strength. “I understand if you’re not ready for anything but I wanted you to know.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I’m still a virgin! I may never be able to have sex!” Stiles’s voice cracked with emotion. 

Derek wanted to gather him close but Stiles had wrapped his arms around his torso, hugging himself. Self-comforting. 

“We don’t have to have sex. Ever. People can be in a relationship that doesn’t include sex. If you ever want to seek treatment I know someone who might be able to help but it’s not a deal breaker. I just want to be with you.” Derek kept his voice as steady as possible. There was too much at stake here to screw this up. “Just so you know, if you just want to be friends I understand. And I’m not going to disappear this time. I promise.”

He half expected Stiles to look skeptical at his words but instead Derek found hope. “I can’t put a label on anything yet. But I, ah, love you, too.”

Derek shifted back to the futon and tugged Stiles into his arms. It was a sweet hug and Derek never wanted to let go.

“No labels. Just the two of us spending time together. We’ll see what happens. Okay?” Derek squeezed the thin but strong body in his arms.

“Better than okay.” Stiles sighed and it was the sweetest sound Derek ever heard.

Derek had thought about sex with Stiles ever since he spotted him at the restaurant but he realized he could do without it.

Whatever Stiles needed, Derek was prepared to give him. 

-0-

It had been six months since Stiles had come clean to Derek about his past. 

In that time Stiles had graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in English Language and Literature and had been accepted into the Master’s of Library Science program. He planned to pursue both a career in writing and also research, two things he’d always excelled at and enjoyed.

Derek was still in the middle of his residency but it looked like all of the remaining Hales were going to relocate to the San Francisco area.

His boyfriend—Stiles had finally said screw it to the no relationship label embargo—held his hand as they entered the restaurant.

Other things had changed, too. Stiles shook off that thought and looked around for the rest of their party.

Stiles could hear Laura and Erica debating something from the bar area with Malia occasionally chiming in. Lydia appeared before the hostess could welcome them. “They’re with us.”

The hostess grinned. “Do you want to be seated now or do you want to join your friends at the bar?” She encompassed all three of them with her question.

Derek glanced toward the bar. “You’d better seat us now. Otherwise they’ll probably close out the bar and we’re hungry.” 

Stiles’s stomach growled almost on cue. 

“Right this way then.” Stiles brought up the rear. His fingers were still linked with Derek’s, which made walking single file a bit awkward but they’d had plenty of practice over the last several months.

Laura, Erica and Malia jumped on the end of their train as they wove through the tables. Their hostess seated them in the back in a large curving booth. “Someone will be right out to take your order.”

Stiles couldn’t keep his focus off of Derek. He turned and smiled, his grin curving wider at the brilliant white teeth his boyfriend flashed back at him. A busgirl set goblets of ice water in front of them and scurried off.

“What are you two grinning at?” Laura asked with her usual curiosity.

“Something’s definitely up with them,” Lydia concurred.

Erica pointed between the two of them. “You look different.”

It was Malia, her voice loud, who identified the change. “You two finally boned.”

Derek face palmed and Stiles sunk down in the booth, grumbling. “Maybe you could announce that a little louder, Malia. I don’t think they heard you at the bar.”

“What? It’s as plain as the nose on your face,” Malia groused back before tacking on, “Anyway, I’m happy for you.”

“We want the deets!” Erica crowed.

Now Laura face palmed. “No. No we don’t.”

Lydia had the last word. She picked up the glass of ice water sitting before her. “I propose a toast. To these two boneheads for finally getting it right.”

Stiles thought about how life might be simpler if he made some new friends because this bunch was a tough crowd and they didn’t let him get away with anything.

He looked at each of them, leaning into Derek’s side, smiling widely. 

Spending time with them, especially Derek, had turned into his new coping mechanism and he couldn’t be happier with the results. 

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing Derek and Laura's opening scene almost as much as I did anything having to do with Stiles and his bevvy of beautiful, protective friends.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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